Poison and Wine
by sdbubbles
Summary: "Your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine." The fallout of a major accident complicates already complex dynamics between people who are complex enough on their own.


Serena Campbell sighed as she pressed the button to let her onto her ward. It had been a long morning of tedious meetings, and in the past twenty minutes she had two calls from her ex-husband's phone, but now it was finally over and she could find some purpose and sanity on AAU. How mind numbing did a meeting did a meeting need to be before the Acute Admissions Unit held more sanity for her? And how many times did she have to ignore Edward for him to get the message that she wasn't interested in being buddies with his new wife?

However, she was startled to walk into the ward and find Henrik Hanssen there, Bernie Wolfe listening intently to him with an expression that told Serena she was preparing for a massive influx of patients. "Ah, Ms. Campbell," Henrik addressed her as she came to stand at his side. "We have a major incident on our hands. A Transit van has crashed into a pub in the town centre. The number of casualties is as yet unknown, but I feel sure we need to prepare for a large number of trauma cases arriving within the next few minutes."

"Alright," Serena sighed. "ETA?"

"Ten minutes." Serena and Bernie nodded, at the same time, and gestured for Hanssen to talk to the AAU staff; Fletch and Raf were already eavesdropping with concerned looks on their faces. With that, Hanssen turned on his heel, and spoke directly to the staff milling in the nurses' station. "There has been a major accident in Holby town centre. From the information I can gather, a car has crashed into a pub, where customers were drinking outside at benches. It is unknown just how many casualties there are, but it is clear that the number is not a small one. This is why AAU will be taking overflow from the ED. Any overflow, and patients who would be better cared for there, may be sent on to Keller. Needless to say that there will be several patients with severe trauma injuries; please bear in mind that many of these people will undoubtedly have alcohol in their systems. I trust that the stellar team here on AAU, led by Ms. Campbell and Ms. Wolfe," he gestured to the unit's two consultants, "will deal with the incident effectively, efficiently and sensitively. Thank you."

The team instantly dispersed when Hanssen stopped speaking, Raf and Fletch instructing the staff to discharge or transfer as many patients as possible to make room for the inflow of injured people.

"Do we know which pub was hit?" Serena asked, out of interest.

"Unfortunately not," replied Hanssen. "Though I'm sure someone will be able to tell you soon enough." Serena nodded and wandered away, deciding it was best to put scrubs on now rather than wait to get covered in blood and vomit. In a few minutes, the floodgates would open; she had to be on top of it. She had to be all over it like a rash.

Except, she didn't. This was the benefit of Bernie's presence on AAU. Two consultants meant half the stress for Serena. For the first time, she really appreciated the fact that Bernie – however frustrating she tended to be – had her back. It made the ball of stress on her chest seem lighter, more movable. It was certainly a new way of dealing with a major accident on AAU, particularly since trauma medicine was Bernie's speciality. This was going to be an experience.

Minutes later, scrubs and sensible shoes on, necklace off, Serena stalked back to the ward, where the first patients were already being wheeled in. "Female, in her early thirties," called out Fletch. "Broken tib and fib and suspected head injury. GCS was twelve at the scene."

"Bed four!" replied Bernie.

"Male, mid-twenties," Raf shouted over the babble. "Seems in a very bad way. Internal bleeding, head injury, spinal injury, GCS ten at the scene, now reduced to six, blood pressure ninety over sixty." Serena approached the trolley and looked down at the young man.

"Bed eight," answered Serena, taking the chart from the nurse holding it. The patient had been unable to give a name, and clearly nobody else had been able to provide it either. What sort of a state was this pub in?

But the familiar voice behind her made Serena turn on the spot. "Dad! Where's Dad?!" that voice called out. "Where's Liberty?"

Elinor Campbell stumbled in the door of the ward behind a nurse, and Serena's stomach turned at the state of her daughter. Elinor's face was scraped, she was limping, and she was clutching at her abdomen. On instinct, Serena ran to her daughter. "Why aren't you in an ambulance?" demanded Serena, cupping Elinor's face. "Look at the state of you!"

"There are people back there in a worse state than me," Elinor argued, though Serena felt Elinor's full weight fall on her. "Where are Dad and Liberty?"

"I don't know, darling," Serena replied, trying to keep her voicing as soothing as she could. "I can find out for you, if you just get onto a bed," she added, beckoning for Fletch to help her move Elinor past the young man who just got into bed eight, into bed six. "Edward and Liberty Campbell," Serena said to Fletch. "See what you can find out, please." Serena stroked Elinor's hair out of her face, and ordered a list of tests and painkillers to be done by Fletch. "And," she sighed, remembering she could not possibly be her daughter's doctor, "get me Ms. Wolfe."

Carefully, she lifted Elinor's top, to find her abdomen was very swollen, and a chill ran through her. She obviously was bleeding internally, and by no small degree. How had her daughter managed to get herself here and _walk_ in the door? But as a nurse hooked Elinor up to a monitor, she chose not to mention it. After all, even if she did inform Elinor that she had internal injuries, she wouldn't be able to treat her. It was better for another surgeon to take on the whole role of Elinor's doctor; Serena had tried being both doctor and relative before and it always ended badly. She didn't want the same for her daughter.

Instead, she asked, "What on Earth happened? What were you doing in Holby?"

"We were coming to surprise you, Mum," Elinor answered, wincing in her first indication that she was in immense pain. "Then Dad...I don't know what's wrong with him. He was throwing up, and he went into the road. The car swerved to miss him..."

"And hit you instead."

"Yes."

In that moment, Elinor cried out with pain, unable to hide it any longer. Serena felt a hand fly to her wrist, gripping tightly as Elinor's back arched and her eyes screwed themselves tightly shut.

Serena struggled to keep her composure; rather than let her child see the fault line in her strength, she said, "Just stay put. I'm going to see what I can find out about your father and Liberty." She rubbed Elinor's hand and somehow got to the nurses' station, where Fletch was busy looking for a file.

He looked around and started to talk, though he returned his gaze tot he search for the file he needed. "The woman in bed four is Liberty Campbell," Fletch said. "Edward has been taken straight up to Keller; he's very ill, but he doesn't have any injuries from the accident, other than a few scrapes."

Serena closed her eyes, willing the universe not to challenge her today. "Ric will take good care of him," she assured herself, more than she was assuring Fletch. "What state is Liberty in?"

"Um, broken tib and fib, knock to the head. Not sure how bad but she's awake and alert," Fletch answered. "Bernie doesn't reckon she's too badly injured but we're running tests just to be on the safe side."

With an internal groan, she patted Fletch's shoulder in thanks, and headed over to where Bernie was tending to Liberty. "Ms. Wolfe, could you take a look at the patient in bed eight, please?" she asked of Bernie. She was deliberately avoiding Liberty's gaze, but she knew her daughter's new step-mother recognised her. "Mrs. Campbell, Mr. Di Lucca will take good care of you in the meantime."

Liberty did not look the young and bubbly girl she always seemed, lying here on this bed. She looked fragile, aged by the trauma of the accident. "Eddie," Liberty asked.

"Edward," Serena began, now being careful to avoid Bernie's gaze, "is up on Keller. Whatever it is that's wrong with him, Mr. Griffin and his team will look after him."

"It's the drinking," Liberty said. "He drinks too much. It's killing him."

Ignoring this comment, Serena turned to Bernie and said, "Could I have a quick word before you see to that patient, please?"

Bernie nodded, and Serena felt that hazel stare burn through her; it was obvious Bernie was piecing details together, something proven when she said, "Edward? As in Edward the ex?"

Serena nodded. "The very same. Now, in the interests of openness, the patient in bed eight is my daughter, hence why I can't treat her. So, I'm trusting you to take good care of her."  
The look on Bernie's face told Serena not to worry, but she did all the same. Fletch approached them with an expression one might wear if they were caught in an avalanche. "We've got a name on the kid in bed six. Trying to get hold of his parents now," he informed them. "Father's not picking up. Told Jenny to try again and if he doesn't pick up, call the mother. To be honest, Raf doesn't have high hopes that he's gonna make it."

Serena had to concur there. The boy had be far the worst injuries she had seen yet. "Thanks, Fletch," Bernie told him, with a small yet somehow sad smile. "Now, let's see to that daughter of yours," she added to Serena. Though Serena knew she had other patients to tend to, she felt she needed to ensure Elinor was in safe hands before she could go near them; she was no use to them with half her mind worrying about whether Elinor was getting the right care. She trusted Bernie's skill with her own life, so would do with her daughter's.

A nurse was busy drawing Elinor's blood when they reached her. The tests she ordered were being done. That was a start. "Hello, Elinor," greeted Bernie. "I'm Ms. Wolfe. Call me Bernie if you'd like. I'm just going to check you over."

Elinor nodded and leaned back for her; Serena looked away from the abdomen that was so obviously swollen, as Bernie examined it, and Elinor's left leg. In the back of her mind, she knew what it meant.

It meant that Elinor was as ill as her father was.

"Get an ultrasound, please," Bernie ordered the nurse, who nodded as she pulled the gloves off her hands. "And get an x-ray of the leg, too." The nurse walked away to the nurses' station, and Bernie turned to speak directly to Elinor. "Now, I'm afraid you seem to have some internal bleeding. We're going to to do an ultrasound to see how severe it is. As for your leg, well, we'll need an x-ray on that to know for sure if there are any broken bones."

Elinor nodded, and said, "Thank you."

Bernie's hand rubbed Serena's shoulder in support; Serena smiled briefly at her before she, again, turned back to her daughter. "Ellie, darling, this place is swamped. I'm going to have to pitch in. But I won't leave the ward, and if I have no choice, I'll come and tell you." Elinor was clearly not happy about it but she did not argue. She had grown up a lot in the past couple of years, and understood more about the workload involved in her mother's line of work. Serena leaned down and kissed Elinor's head, and left with Bernie.

"Between you and me," Bernie said, keeping her voice low, "I think she'll be needing surgery."

Serena was about to answer when the shrill tone of a ringing mobile phone sounded, and Bernie pulled hers from her back pocket. With a confused looked, she stared at the number, and Serena peeked over her shoulder.

The realisation hit her.

Bernie looked up towards the nurses' station, and Fletch, who had taken over the phone duty from Jenny, stared back.


End file.
